Our Most Memorable Presents

by The Van Gogh-Goghs

Christmas is the season for giving, or least that's what the good people at Home Depot are paying me to say (and what better way to say "Merry Christmas" than by giving your loved one a belt sander?). I thought that it would be nice for us here at vgg.com to reminisce about the most memorable presents we've asked for over the past holiday seasons. Enjoy. --VGG

Galen: One year, I said the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a little brother. Suddenly, out of the blue as if by some holiday miracle, my wish was granted, when my daddy broke down and admitted to my mommy that I indeed already had a little brother! Or at least half of one, which I guess is better than none at all. Boy, I'll never forget that Christmas, with the yelling and the name-calling and the gift-breaking and the crying. A whole lot of crying. You know, crying's good for the soul. That, and drinking.

Charles: It's a cliche, I know, but the Christmas gift I wanted more than anything else was world peace. You can imagine the surprise I got one Christmas morning when I saw that world peace wrapped up with a big red bow! It was awesome! People holding hands and singing, brotherhood of man... this baby had all the options! Then, you know, I'd be playing with it and it would slow down on the carpet, and that world peace would just suck batteries dry. A couple of days later, I accidentally bent the antenna on it, and then, I don't know, I guess I lost interest in world peace. It was the same year I got Rock-em Sock-em Robots, so you can see how that would happen. I wonder what whatever happened to my world peace. My mom must have sold it in a yard sale or something.

Alan: My favorite gift was when I received an evil undead army of the night. The minute it got dark, they started groaning and shrieking and demanding blood and brains... AWESOME! The only problem was I had an early bedtime back then. Sure, in the winter months I got to play with them for about an hour, laying waste to the neighborhood until my mom would call me home for bed. When the days got longer, though, I was asleep before my undead army of the night even began to fidget. I ended up trading them for a Joe Charboneau rookie baseball card and a fistful of Bazooka Joe comics. Man, I miss those comics.

Jason: Like the song said, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." I still want them. That bastard Santa gave me two molars. TWO MOLARS!! Those aren't front teeth... they're back teeth! Front, back.... front, back.... don't they teach you this crap in the North Pole school system, fat guy? Seriously, I'm not playing, Tubby. Get me my two front teeth or next year I'm putting a bear trap in my chimney. It's because I'm Jewish, is that, Tubby? You secular-yet-Christian gift givers are all alike. You suck, the Easter Bunny sucks, and that Irish Saint who gives you green beer in exchange for snakes sucks, too!

T. Mike: When I was eight years old, the one gift that I wanted above all else was a Red Rider BB Gun, just like in the movie "A Christmas Story." Everyone kept laughing and telling me, "You'll shoot your eye out," but I ignored them and kept asking for a Red Rider BB gun. Christmas morning came, and there it was, my very own Red Rider BB Gun. I was thrilled! Until... uh... let's just say it wasn't my eye I shot off.

Rob: My parents took me to see Santa when I was seven years old, and I told him I wanted one of those paddle ball thingies. That year, I got my first bike. The next year, I asked for a paddle ball thingy, and I got an Atari 2600 with five games. The next year, I asked for a paddle ball thingy, and I got a better bicycle. The five years after that, I asked for a paddle ball thingy, a paddle ball thingy, a paddle ball thingy, a paddle ball thingy, and a paddle ball thingy, and I got a computer, a Nintendo, a thousand dollars, a trip to the Super Bowl and a Corvette. Since then, I've only asked for a paddle ball thingy, and I've received trips to Vegas and a new house and 63 Dairy Queen franchises throughout the Southwest. Last year, my parents paid the Russkies $20 million to send me to some space station somewhere out in space or something. My question to you is, who's a guy gotta blow to get a god damn paddle ball thingy around here?